


Vestiges

by Anatui



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Angina, Bisexual Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya, Denial of Feelings, Dysfunctional Family, Fever, Frottage, Fuck Or Die, Hand Jobs, Heart Arrhythmia, Heartbeats, High School, Hot Flashes, Implied/Referenced Masturbation, Implied/Referenced Wet Dream, Jogress Bonds, M/M, Morosexual Ichijouji Ken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24705247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatui/pseuds/Anatui
Summary: Ken couldn't breathe.This wasn't the first time he'd felt like this. Over the past several weeks, his chest had tightened like this in the most random moments, interrupting what he was doing, rendering his study sessions useless, ruining his sleepovers with his best friend.ORKen and Daisuke's repressed feelings manifest physically...
Relationships: Ichijouji Ken/Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35
Collections: Ana's 2020 Writing Challenge, Daiken Discord Server, Daiken Week 2020





	Vestiges

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Imprint](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705748) by [delires](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delires/pseuds/delires). 



> DAIKEN WEEK  
> Day 7: Jogress Partners | Nakama
> 
> Okay, I wound up skipping day six because it was a hot mess, which means I'm actually posting this one time. YAY!
> 
> This is a story I've wanted to write for months. Since I first discovered delires's Taiyama fic. This is written as a sequel to that, not as a remix of it, so I generally followed the same format to keep it similar enough. Though you don't _have_ to read it, I highly recommend it because it's fucking fantastic and delicious.
> 
> For reference...  
> A _vestige_ is a trace, mark, or visible sign left by something vanished or lost.

Ken couldn't breathe.

He'd just finished his test and was walking to the train station to head back to Tamachi when his chest tightened. So tight he couldn't breathe. So tight he couldn't focus on anything else, even as he clutched his phone in his hands.

He gripped the railing, desperate not to fall down the stairs, his other hand over his heart, trying to make sense of his body.

This wasn't the first time he'd felt like this. Over the past several weeks, his chest had tightened like this in the most random moments, interrupting what he was doing, rendering his study sessions useless, ruining his sleepovers with his best friend.

If anything, they were getting more frequent.

He probably had angina, which would need to be investigated by a doctor as soon as possible.

Of course, he couldn't alert his parents to the issue. The last thing he wanted was to worry them again.

Hmm, perhaps Jou would be able to take a look at him.

Slowly, his chest loosened, and he took long, steady breaths until he felt comfortable enough to traverse the rest of the way to his train. Either way, he still didn't feel comfortable emailing Daisuke back until he was safely sitting down—his impatient best friend would have to wait.

*

Jou couldn't do much without taking him to the hospital and running some tests. He simply did a short physical exam and pronounced him in excellent health, which is what he should have been considering he'd only just turned eighteen.

But he couldn't do more than that.

All he said was, "You should really go to the hospital, Ken. If you're experiencing chest pain and difficulty breathing, that could be a sign of something very serious."

"I can't," was Ken's only response.

"Think about it," Jou insisted, his voice soft, understanding. "I don't want you to miss something dangerous."

He hesitated before agreeing to consider it.

*

"I know you cut back on sports the last couple years," Miyako said when they talked on the phone, "but surely you're not _that_ out of shape."

Ken frowned.

That had been one of his first thoughts, of course, but she was right. There was no way he would be so out of shape to have chest pains from such light exercise as walking to the train station. Besides, there had been just as many times where the tightness had come while he wasn't doing anything strenuous in the slightest.

"It's only happened during judo once," he supplied, tapping his finger on his desk.

And that had been an embarrassment. Daisuke and a few of the others had attended his first match of the season, and they'd been cheering so loudly—well, Daisuke had—as he stepped onto the mat, and then his chest had constricted, like there was a heavy weight on his heart. He'd lost the match immediately.

"Hmm," Miyako murmured. "This is so strange."

*

"Do you think it might be stress-related?" Hikari asked as she handed him a hot tea. "You've taken on so much since starting at Azabu, and I know you want to do well on your university entrance exams, but all you ever do is study."

He scowled at her. "I'm taking a break right now, Hikari-san," he reminded her.

She flashed him a bright smile. "Yes, but what do you do for fun?"

Ken closed his eyes, considering.

Obviously, the times he had the most fun were the times he spent with Daisuke. He was his best friend for a reason, and you know, it was Daisuke—he always kept things interesting. Even just hanging out at one of their houses and watching Daisuke throw together one of his new food experiments was fun.

Ken lifted his cup to take a drink before venturing to answer, but his chest spasmed and he nearly dropped the hot tea in his fumbled attempt to set it down.

He couldn't breathe.

"Ken-kun?"

God, he wasn't even thinking anything stressful. Why would this happen now?

"Ken-kun, how can I help?" Hikari's worried voice cut through to him.

He gripped the table and focused on his breathing, focused on taking deep steady breaths and releasing them slowly until the ache eased.

Hikari's brown eyes had unshed tears in them when he had gathered himself together.

"I'm all right," he said, desperate to reassure her, even though he was quite certain he wasn't.

*

"Maybe you're cursed," Takeru suggested like it was a joke.

But honestly, that seemed the most likely culprit of all.

After all his actions as the Digimon Kaiser, even years and years ago now, it only made sense that this would be a curse. A punishment even.

Of course, he didn't dare bring that possibility up to anyone. He didn't want to see the pain in Hikari's eyes, the disapproval in Miyako's, the sheer worry and desperation in Daisuke's. And he definitely didn't want to see the way Takeru's and Iori's eyes would dilate and constrict as they genuinely considered the likelihood, as they considered whether he deserved this.

"Perhaps," was Ken's only response.

And Takeru launched into something about this story idea he had, dropping the matter entirely.

*

The only person who didn't try to put a name on it, who didn't try to solve it, was Daisuke.

Instead, his best friend laughed about how there was no way he of all people would be able to figure it out—which, of course, earned him a particularly harsh glare—and gave him a sense of camaraderie.

Ken's so called attacks around Daisuke were the easiest to deal with because Daisuke would drop whatever he was doing to stand with him, to cup his face so he'd meet his eyes, to lay his hand over his heart, and command him to mimic his steady breathing. That helped more than Ken could say, and he hated that he didn't know how to express his gratitude.

Of course, Daisuke had his own worries.

He'd been dealing with strange fevers that sent him into a sweaty mess, desperately fanning himself. Daisuke had always run hot, but when Ken touched his skin during these fevers, the heat seared him, branded him.

Yet, every time they took his temperature, the thermometer never read over thirty-eight degrees. He didn't technically have a fever, no matter how fiery his skin felt, no matter how much he sweated.

"Fuck, am I going through menopause already?" Daisuke grumbled when he pointed it out while they waited for their ramen.

Ken didn't have the heart to correct him.

The shop was Daisuke's favorite ramen shop, and he'd already taken a job there after school, but even on nights he didn't work, he still wanted to drag Ken there and feed him. Daisuke always wanted to feed him, even when he wasn't hungry, but he couldn't deny Daisuke anything.

Ken sighed. "It's not menopause," he finally said. "Hot flashes can be caused by other things too. I read somewhere that most men who experience them are dealing with stress, depression, or anxiety."

Daisuke only frowned at him.

"Or you could have low testosterone…"

"Hey!" he snapped, gesticulating wildly on the other side of the table. "I'll have you know, I smell great. Plenty of people want to sleep with me."

Ken blinked at him slowly, processing, then finally managed to say, "Testosterone, Daisuke. Not pheromones."

"Oh?" He cocked his head to the side. "What's the difference?"

But when Ken sat up straight, ready to launch into an explanation of the two different bodily hormones, Daisuke nearly bolted out of his chair.

Their ramen had arrived.

After Ken had finished half his bowl—and Daisuke was midway through his second helping—his best friend paused, spinning his chopsticks between his fingers. "Don't you think it's weird that we're both dealing with this?"

Ken frowned. "What do you mean? We're having completely different symptoms. I don't see how they could possibly be related."

Daisuke shrugged. "I dunno, it's just a gut feeling I get. That there's a link somehow."

That comment only deepened Ken's frown.

Yes, Daisuke often said asinine things and didn't think things through, but his gut feelings were usually right. He had this innate ability to comprehend emotions, no matter how secret or subtle, and that meant he was able to piece together things that were often unlinkable with pure logic.

If Daisuke said he had a gut feeling about their issues being connected, he was probably right.

Ken really didn't want him to be right.

"Okay, say they are," Ken supposed, setting his chopsticks down to concentrate. "What's the connection? Why is it the two of us? Or is anyone else experiencing something similar? What makes us unique?"

Daisuke shrugged. "You tell me. You're the smartest person I know." He paused, frowning. "Except maybe Koushiro."

Ken released a long sigh. "If it's just me, I can find ways to make sense of it." He tentatively reached around and laid his fingers over the place where the Dark Seed was still buried deep in the base of his neck. "It could be related to this, or to the Dark Ocean. But that doesn't make sense if I have to include you in my equations. I don't know how to make sense of this."

"It could still be something like that, though," Daisuke tried, pointing at him with his chopsticks. "Maybe we picked something up in the Digital World? I mean, with all the shit that's happened…"

"Perhaps."

Although, that didn't sit right with Ken. It felt like an easy way out. Every time something went wrong, they always blamed it on the Digital World.

Okay, they were usually right.

But that didn't mean _this_ had to do with the Digital World.

"Why wouldn't anyone else have picked it up, though?" he asked, and he leaned over the table, his loose hair falling in his face, as he plucked up his chopsticks again. "And why are our symptoms different?"

Daisuke huffed. "Why are you asking me?"

Ken's eyes flitted up. He stared at Daisuke through his lashes and worried his bottom lip, and Daisuke stared back with wide eyes. "I'm thinking out loud," he said in a quiet voice, then turned back to his food. "I just can't find a logical explanation. I swear, I've—"

"Oh, fuck."

When he looked up again, Daisuke was flushed a deep pink, and he had grabbed hold of the front of his T-shirt and was flicking it back and forth to cool himself off, even as sweat glistened by his sideburns.

Ken's brow furrowed, and he stretched across the table to clasp his hand over the one Daisuke had clenched on the table. "You all right?"

But Daisuke shook his head and retreated to the restroom, probably to splash water on his face.

In his wake, Ken leaned back in his seat and laid his hand over his chest.

If it were just the chest pains, it would be easy to brush it off as something normal. Something he should definitely see the doctor about but still normal.

But for the past few weeks, he'd also felt a strange feeling deep in his chest. Like his body wasn't working right. It felt…

It felt like his heart was out of sync. Like the rhythm was off.

Really, the last thing he needed was to add heart arrhythmia to his list of issues, to the list of things that would only cause his parents to worry.

And then there was the other part. The part he hadn't felt comfortable telling anyone about.

The dreams.

Ken could never remember what happened in them, why they flustered him so, but he woke in a wanton heap in his loft bed, panting, moaning, so hard he ached with need. The only way to go back to sleep was to take matters into his own hand, so to speak.

He'd never put much effort into masturbation before, never considered it something to devote his time to, but now it had become part of his morning ritual. He'd almost been late to class a few times because he'd been unable to ignore his body's reaction to those damn dreams.

Plus there had been the time his mother had walked in on him, and he'd had to hide his actions quickly. The loft bed was particularly helpful for that.

He still wasn't sure whether she'd realized what he'd been doing that morning.

For the life of him, Ken had no idea how all these pieces fit together. Between the chest pains, the arrhythmia, and a series of wet dreams he couldn't even remember, nothing made sense.

*

The strangest thing yet, though, happened the following weekend while the two of them were kicking a soccer ball around at the park.

They had to take a break midway through after Ken threw himself headfirst into a dive, stealing the ball out from under Daisuke's feet, and sank a particularly impressive power shot because Daisuke got one of his hot flashes. Daisuke dropped down in the shade and tore off his shirt to let the breeze cool down his sweaty body.

Ken, uncomfortable, looked away, specifically avoiding looking at his best friend's glistening bare chest.

The next thing he knew, Daisuke had grabbed his wrist and yanked him close, catching Ken when he slipped and fell on top of him, chest to chest, their faces mere centimeters apart.

Ken's breath caught in his throat.

Then, he couldn't breathe at all.

As his chest ached, tightening then loosening and tightening again, a loud _crash_ sounded to his right.

In his periphery, he could see the small bike and the young cyclist, no older than seven, trying to right his bike—exactly where he'd been sitting moments ago. The young boy apologized profusely once he was up, but Daisuke, sitting up with a shocked Ken still on his lap, waved away his concern.

When they were alone again, Daisuke stared at him. "You all right?"

Ken could only nod.

Daisuke pushed a few strands of hair from his face and sighed with relief. "God, that scared the shit out of me."

"I'm fine," Ken insisted, slowly regaining his composure. "You saw him coming?"

He shook his head.

"Heard him then? Your hearing is phenomenal." He released a heavy breath and started to climb off his lap.

"I didn't," Daisuke said, making him freeze. "I don't know how I knew. I just knew." Their eyes met. "Gut instinct, you know?"

Ken dropped down again, halfway on top of Daisuke and halfway on the grass. "That's eerie." His chest ached again, but not to the point where he couldn't breathe. He took slow, steady breaths, trying to not to give away his discomfort, and said, "I can't do this. I know we haven't finished our game, but this is too much."

Daisuke nodded. "Let's skip it then. Do something else."

He gave a half-hearted smile.

Ken wanted to just go back to his family's apartment, take a shower, and relax for the rest of the day, maybe watch movies or something, but Daisuke threw his shirt back on, shoved the ball back into his duffel bag, and led him by the hand down the streets of Odaiba.

They wound up at Koushiro's office, and Daisuke breathed a happy sigh when Koushiro answered the intercom and buzzed them inside the building.

Inside, Koushiro directed them to sit in the armchairs, and Daisuke dropped his duffel bag and Ken's hand to throw himself into one of the chairs with a dramatic flourish. Ken took the seat beside him, leaning into Daisuke's space for reassurance.

Daisuke gave an animated explanation of events, starting with the bike incident in the park, and Ken allowed him to have his heroic moment—even though he probably just didn't realize he'd heard the bicycle coming—and relaxed, his eyes focusing and refocusing on the enormous television on one wall, where Koushiro had the news playing, muted. He'd stopped listening entirely until he realized Koushiro was actually talking.

Brow creased with anxiety, Koushiro tapped a finger against the tablet in his hands. "Have you talked to anyone else about this?"

Ken inclined his head. He'd spoken to many of the Chosen, his friends, when the chest pains had first started, but Daisuke's condition had never been included in the conversations.

"Have you spoken to Taichi-san and Yamato-san?" Koushiro asked, no longer beating around the bush.

Daisuke cocked his head. "Should we?"

Koushiro frowned. "They seemed to have a similar experience during their third year of high school. It could be linked."

That caught Ken's attention more than anything else. He vaguely recalled hearing about their senpais having issues a few years ago but had never thought it a possible connection.

He leaned forward in his chair. "How did they fix it? What happened?"

"I honestly don't know," Koushiro admitted, frown deepening. "But it is especially curious that you're experiencing something similar in your third year as well. That can't be a coincidence."

Ken dropped back in the seat, frustrated by Koushiro's strange lack of knowledge.

"Even more curious," their senpai continued, "is the fact that, like Taichi-san and Yamato-san, you're Jogress partners as well. That isn't a coincidence—of that, I'm positive." He paused, considering. "With the others, there was an inciting incident. I don't know what it was, but something definitely happened involving the two of them that started their strange symptoms."

Daisuke shot him a wide-eyed look, and Ken frowned.

"When did these symptoms start?" Koushiro asked.

Ken shook his head, uncertain. "Four or five weeks ago."

"The night of our sleepover five weeks ago," Daisuke said at the same time. "I couldn't sleep because I was so hot. My sheets were soaked with sweat."

That was news to Ken, but…

"I woke up repeatedly that night," he admitted in a quiet voice. "I kept having dreams that I was drowning or getting smothered. I couldn't breathe."

Koushiro nodded like this made perfect sense, then said, "Did anything out of the ordinary happen at that sleepover?"

Their eyes met again.

"No," Ken said, all too quickly.

Daisuke scowled.

Koushiro glanced between them and simply said, "Talk to Taichi-san and Yamato-san. Since they dealt with something similar, they probably have ideas of how you could fix it."

When they left, Ken didn't feel any more relieved than when they had arrived.

*

As far as Ken was concerned, what had happened at their sleepover five weeks ago couldn't have anything to do with this. It simply didn't make sense.

It had started as a typical sleepover.

They would switch off whose apartment they'd stay at each weekend, and that weekend had been at Daisuke's. Ken always preferred staying at Daisuke's more because it meant they were closer together; at home, his loft bed made it difficult to stay up late and talk since they could barely see each other after turning out the lights, and half the time, they hung out on the futon together and talked until he fell asleep down there too.

They'd put on a movie and lay down on the futon together on Daisuke's bedroom floor to watch, but Ken was the only one paying attention.

"Aww, man," Daisuke grumbled, running his rough fingers through his cinnamon-colored hair. "Can you believe it? Kanna hasn't called me in two weeks."

Ken hummed a response, his eyes on the movie as he reclined beside his melodramatic best friend. He really didn't want to hear about Daisuke's girl troubles, even if he and Kanna had been going steady for a good couple weeks before this sudden development.

"Do you think I'm a bad kisser?"

"What?" Ken turned, his cheeks flushing a soft pink that was hopefully hidden by the dark room.

Daisuke smirked at him. "I said, do you think it's because I'm a bad kisser?"

Oh.

Ken turned back to the movie, but he couldn't stop himself from adding, "Did she say you're a bad kisser?"

"Not in so many words." He heaved a sigh, scooting closer to slump his head on Ken's shoulder. "But she definitely thought so. She said she wanted to teach me a few moves, but obviously _that_ didn't happen."

Ken tried to shrug, but the force of Daisuke's head kept his shoulder in place. "Then I guess you'll never know."

Daisuke, though, lifted his head and pressed closer. "You've kissed someone before…"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, come on. You've got to be good at it. You're amazing at everything, Ken."

"Daisuke," he snapped, voice quivering with command, "what does that have to do with _this_?"

Daisuke chewed his lip thoughtfully before finally gathering the nerve to say, "Kiss me. So you can—uh, what's the word?— _assess_ my skills."

It took Ken a little while to register what he was saying, and by that time, Daisuke had pushed himself into his space, hands finding his upper arms, chest bumping his chest till the thumping inside melded so perfectly with his. Daisuke paused centimeters from his mouth, gaze darting between his sharp eyes and pink lips, and murmured, "Will you help me?"

Fuck.

How could Ken deny him when he'd asked like that?

His answer was simple: He surged forward, cupping the back of Daisuke's head, fingers threading through cinnamon locks, slotting their mouths together in a way that felt eerily powerful. Ken's entire body pulsed with energy. It was mind-blowing, electric.

And he definitely wasn't the only one to think so.

Daisuke had always relied on his passion, and once he got his bearings, he threw himself into the kiss wholeheartedly.

The next thing Ken knew, he was pinned to the futon, Daisuke straddling his hips and holding his upper arms down, his hot tongue delving into Ken's mouth when he gasped. He scraped his nails over Daisuke's scalp, eager not to let him control everything, and their tongues twisted and danced together in his mouth.

Ken had never enjoyed kissing someone so much, had never wanted to keep kissing someone so much, especially when Daisuke pulled back enough to suck his lower lip into his mouth and scrape his teeth over the tender flesh. Ken moaned and eagerly yanked at Daisuke's hair.

Then, all too quickly, Daisuke pulled back, staring down at him seriously, still straddling his hips. "So?"

"Huh?"

Ken had forgotten whatever they'd been talking about before they'd started kissing. He couldn't even remember what movie they'd been watching.

Daisuke frowned, even as he was panting. "Is it my kissing? Do you think that's why Kanna dumped me?"

Fuck, if Daisuke had kissed her like that, there was no way in hell she'd dumped him because he was a bad kisser.

"Well," he began, tempering his voice into a steadiness he didn't feel, "there's always room for improvement."

Daisuke's face fell, and he finally climbed off. "It was that bad?"

Ken licked his lips, not sitting back up just yet, trying to calm his body down. His bottom lip was swollen from the kiss, from Daisuke biting him. It still tasted like him. "Not bad per se," he murmured. "Perhaps a little…enthusiastic? But anyway, you're decent enough—I doubt that's the reason she stopped calling."

Daisuke brightened again at that. Perhaps a little too bright.

Ken shrugged. "It probably has more to do with the way Azabu kicked Tsukishima's ass our last match." He shot his best friend a smug little glance.

The girl in question, Kanna, had indeed gone to the soccer match to cheer Daisuke on, and well, Ken had stolen the ball from him no less than six times. Normally, he'd let his teammates control the ball, but he couldn't help but get competitive when playing against Daisuke…and well, Kanna's presence may have given an extra boost to his motivation during the match.

Suddenly, the tension between them dissipated.

"You ass!" Daisuke swiped at him with his pillow, laughing, even as Ken dodged the assault.

They wound up in a heap on the floor, grappling and laughing and trying to pin each other, and then Daisuke landed on top of him, straddling his hips, and yes, Ken could've easily knocked him off, but their bodies rocked and his hips rolled and parts of them were touching that definitely shouldn't be touching, and suddenly Ken lost all ability to breathe.

The next thing he knew, Daisuke was leaning over him, sitting next to him instead of on top of him, and desperately asking him what was wrong while Ken rubbed his own chest and struggled to breathe.

*

What Ken didn't realize was, Daisuke had been having dreams too.

The first couple times, it hadn't seemed out of the ordinary. He'd had wet dreams before, occasionally ones he hadn't remembered two seconds after waking up. But they'd never been this frequent before, and they'd definitely never been this powerful.

Plus, the fact that these dreams had started around the same time as the hot flashes was particularly suspicious.

It had seemed random at first, totally strange, no cause for events, but slowly, Daisuke had noticed a pattern emerge…

There was the time they'd met up with everyone for a movie night at Takeru's house, and Ken sat next to him, curling up into him while they watched the epic fantasy Takeru had chosen for the evening.

Ken always looked so soft and delicate when he felt uncomfortable like he always was at Takeru's home, and Daisuke loved how he leaned on him, leaned _into_ him, for support.

Daisuke was about to lean close and whisper in his ear that Takeru wasn't nearly as scary as Ken seemed to believe, but a flash of heat passed through his body and he immediately started sweating.

He missed most of the movie because he had to step out into the chilly night air on the balcony to calm his body down.

Then, there was the night the group had gone to Round 1 only a few blocks from Daisuke's apartment to play games and sing karaoke. Ken was never keen on going to those sort of places, but he never complained, and that night, he actually got really into the music.

Daisuke had never heard Ken sing before.

Normally, he much preferred hiding in the background, but Hikari had convinced him by suggesting a duet. What no one had expected was how Ken outshone Hikari with no effort whatsoever.

Ken closed his eyes—they'd specifically chosen a song he knew and liked to ease his discomfort—and threw himself headfirst into the music. He sang along with perfect pitch, a smooth rhythm, and he swayed along to the beat till Daisuke could feel it thrumming deep in his chest.

With his hips undulating provocatively and his hands clutching the mic with a keen desperation, Ken looked utterly beautiful on the small stage.

Daisuke couldn't look away. Didn't want to.

He was entirely entranced by Ken's hips rolling from side to side, by the passionate way he got into the song and was lost to the rest of the world, by his smooth, sultry voice.

When the song finished, Ken's eyes fluttered open, and he cast a bashful smile straight at Daisuke.

Daisuke had to excuse himself to the bathroom immediately. His entire body was on fire, so overheated he was liable to sweat through his shirt, and he needed to splash cold water on his face.

That really should have been the moment where he realized what was happening, but it hadn't been till a couple days later that he made the connection.

Ken had made a trip from Tamachi in the middle of the week just to see one of his soccer games, and Daisuke had nearly fumbled the winning goal, though he'd salvaged it at the last minute.

After the game, Ken came into the locker room and waited while he showered and got dressed. It had been a rather windy October day with gusts reaching nearly a hundred kilometers per hour, and the temperature had dropped to sixteen degrees by the end of the match. All Daisuke had on were a T-shirt and his cargo shorts, so Ken insisted on giving him his scarf as they left the pitch.

The moment he got home, his mom chided him for being late to dinner and pushed him into his seat. Jun had come for family dinner, and since they rarely saw her now that she'd moved out—a fact that was perfectly okay with Daisuke—their parents actually put in the effort to talk to her during her occasional visits.

Daisuke, though, was too busy emailing Ken to make sure he made it home safe, not even bothering to hide the smartphone digivice Koushiro had given them all under the table.

A smile spread across his face at Ken's response— _Yes, I'm about to sit down to dinner. I expect you to take care of my favorite scarf till you come over this weekend._ —and he shot an affectionate glance toward where the pretty lavender scarf had been hung up by the front door.

He wouldn't leave it there, of course. He'd take it to his room to keep it away from prying hands…and maybe so he could bury his face in it and smell _Ken_ while they were apart.

"Who're you talking to?" Jun said, drawing his attention back to the three other people at the table. "Your boyfriend?"

A bright flush rose to his cheeks. "Shut up! Ken isn't my boyfriend."

She smirked and batted her eyes. "Oh, but you desperately want him to be."

"I do not!"

Their father thumped his fist against the table, shaking the plates and bowls. "This is supposed to be a pleasant family dinner."

"Your father's right," their mom said, and her eyes narrowed at Daisuke. "Put the phone away."

He slipped the digivice back into his pocket, but Jun caught his eye across the table and mouthed, "You want to stick your tongue down his throat…"

There was a moment where he wanted to tell her he already had.

That thought passed the second he started sweating, and he had to excuse himself to the bathroom to cool off.

It was there, staring at his flushed reflection, face wet and collar damp from the water he'd splashed haphazardly on himself in his haste, that he realized the common factor.

Every single time he got these stupid hot flashes, it had to do with Ken.

*

After they left Koushiro's office, Daisuke directed his feet toward his apartment building, and Ken trailed behind.

"What are you doing?" Ken asked when he pulled out his smartphone digivice.

"Checking to see if Taichi-senpai's home," he said immediately. "We need to talk to him and Yamato-senpai, right?"

Ken hesitated. "Do we?"

Daisuke stopped and turned to him, brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't we? You heard Koushiro. We should talk to them. Maybe they have a solution to this."

But Ken could barely breathe, and he didn't want to walk any farther.

The train station was closer than the Yagamis' apartment, and who knew if Taichi were even home?

He shook his head. "I think I'm going to go home."

Daisuke froze. "Wait, what? You were going to spend the night tonight," he said, panic sneaking into his voice.

Ken bit his lip.

He was tired. He didn't want to talk to anyone anymore. All he really wanted to finally be able to breathe without this wretched tightness in his chest.

"Call me after you talk to them?" he suggested, and when Daisuke frowned, he said goodbye and turned toward the train station.

On the train back to Tamachi, Ken had to clutch the railing with both hands, knuckles white, because his chest was so tight he could only gasp for air. His eyes stung with tears, but he refused to consider why it was worse _now_.

*

When Daisuke knocked on the Yagamis' apartment door, Taichi answered with Yamato only a few feet behind him. Yamato raised an eyebrow at his sweaty brow but didn't speak, and Taichi motioned him inside.

They sat him on Taichi's bed with a glass of ice water in the middle of a half-packed room and gave him a few minutes to drink.

Daisuke's eyes darted around the bedroom. "You going somewhere, senpai?"

Taichi pulled out his desk chair and sat on it backwards, offering him a small smile. "Getting ready to move into an apartment for my final year."

He frowned but nodded.

It was Yamato, leaning against the wall by the door, who said, "Tell us what's going on, Daisuke."

"Uh, well…" He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt, avoiding eye contact. "Koushiro suggested I talk to you. He said that you guys had something weird happen your third year in high school."

They exchanged a glance but didn't speak, simply waited for him to continue.

"But he didn't know how you fixed it, and I need to _fix_ this."

"Fix what?" Yamato asked in a quiet voice.

The chair squeaked as Taichi leaned close. "Daisuke, what's going on?"

He bit his lip. "Ken's been getting, like, chest pains all the time, and it's like a heart attack or something, and he won't go to the hospital because he doesn't want to freak out his parents, but this has been happening for like five weeks now and that's long past the time you should suck it up and tell your parents you need a doctor—"

"Daisuke." Taichi laid his hand on his shoulder and squeezed, grounding him. "Why are you talking to _us_ if Ken needs to see a doctor?"

He offered him a painful smile. "Well, it's not really that. Or not _just_ that. Because I've been having this thing where I get really overheated and sweaty, like hot flashes, but Ken promised me it wasn't menopause…"

Yamato pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Which makes sense," he added, nodding emphatically, "because I only get the hot flashes because of Ken. Is that weird? What if he gets his chest thingies—he called it _vagina_ , but that can't be right, can it?—what if he gets them from me? I don't want to be the reason Ken needs to go to the hospital."

"Okay," Yamato commanded before he could say anything else, "just stop."

He did.

Taichi was trying not to laugh, and that slowly faded into a fond smile. "Okay, I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly."

Daisuke frowned. "Of course."

He raised an eyebrow but went ahead anyway: "Daisuke, have you and Ken ever kissed?"

A deep flush rose to his cheeks, and he looked away. "Uh, I, um, don't see what that has to do with anything." If the blush hadn't made it obvious, his squeaky voice was a dead giveaway.

Taichi did laugh then.

By the door, Yamato crossed his arms. "Going to a hospital isn't going to fix anything. You need to go talk to him."

Daisuke took a sip of his ice water, struggling to understand. "How is talking going to help?"

"Just trust us," Taichi said. "You need to talk to him."

"Of course I trust you," he said firmly, sitting up straighter.

"And you know, if you happen to think kissing him again might be a good idea…"

That made Daisuke pause, and his eyes darted between the two of them, suspicion getting the better of him. "Hey, remind me again when you two started dating?"

Yamato scowled and said, "The end of our last year at Tsukishima," while Taichi grinned.

"Oh."

*

It was dinnertime when Daisuke took the train to Tamachi. He knew Ken wasn't expecting him, probably didn't want to see him, wouldn't appreciate his family dinner getting interrupted, but this really couldn't wait.

Mrs. Ichijouji opened the door when he arrived. "Oh, Daisuke-kun!" She pulled him into a hug and smiled so happily. "Ken-chan didn't tell us you'd moved your sleepover here this weekend."

Daisuke laughed.

Because he wasn't sure he'd be invited to stay the night by the one person who mattered most.

Ken was cleaning up after dinner, and his mother immediately offered Daisuke some food, offered to bring out all the leftovers Ken had already stuck in the fridge if he was hungry, but Daisuke simply shook his head, his eyes meeting Ken's blue-violet orbs across the kitchen, and said, "No, thank you, Baa-san. I just really need to talk to Ken."

She squeezed his shoulder and said, "I'll leave you two alone then," and stepped into the living room, where Mr. Ichijouji had turned on the evening news.

They were alone, out of earshot.

But Ken only stared at him, clutching a couple dishes to his chest.

"Hey," he said, stepping tentatively toward his best friend. "I, uh, talked to Taichi-senpai and Yamato-senpai."

"Oh?" Ken turned away and quickly piled the dishes in the sink to wash.

Daisuke moved closer, pausing half a meter away, not wanting to scare him off. "Yeah."

Ken didn't look at him. "And?"

He laid his hand on the counter's edge. "I think I might have an idea how to help. With the chest pains, I mean."

Apparently, Ken was too busy wiping the dishes to look at him, but he inclined his head for him to continue.

"I just…I need you to look at me, Ken."

Then, he did. He stopped washing the rice bowl he'd been cleaning and turned to meet Daisuke's eyes. "What?"

He bit his lip, then slowly moved closer till there wasn't any real space between them. "Just let me try something, okay?"

Ken frowned but didn't argue.

Then, Daisuke pushed up onto his tiptoes and pressed his lips to Ken's.

The water sloshed as Ken jolted back like he'd been electrocuted. He shot halfway across the kitchen, hiding against the far wall, his soapy hands clutching his mouth, eyes wide. "Why would you do that?" he cried, voice sharp and high-pitched.

Daisuke couldn't help the disappointment. "I, uh…I thought it'd be a good idea. I thought it would help."

"How on earth would that help?" His voice was rising sharply with a distinctive panic.

He stepped closer, to hug him, to reassure him, but Ken shook his head and held out a hand to signal him to stop. "Don't come any closer," he demanded, holding himself tight. "Don't."

Daisuke stopped.

But then Ken was gasping, his hand, still soapy and wet, clutching the wall, and Daisuke rushed to his side without a thought, pressing close to wrap his arms around him in a warm hug.

Ken crouched down and buried his face in his hands, taking slow breaths, trying not to start crying. Daisuke was both a comfort and a stressor, but any comfort he provided disappeared the moment he pulled away with a quiet swear.

One glance upward showed Daisuke covered in sweat to the point it was soaking through his T-shirt. Despite the tightness in his chest, Ken managed to grab a kitchen towel from a drawer and offered it to him.

"Thanks," Daisuke murmured as he pressed the towel to his wet brow.

*

After they'd both bathed, they sat on Ken's loft bed, a decent amount of space between them. Ken could feel Daisuke's eyes on him, watching him despite the fact that they could barely see in the dark room, but he didn't dare meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry," Daisuke whispered. "I didn't mean to freak you out. It's just…I have this gut feeling." He paused. "I've _had_ this gut feeling for a while now, but after talking to Taichi-senpai and Yamato-senpai, I'm _sure_."

Ken shook his head. "It's a ridiculous notion."

"Is it?" He sighed. "I just feel like this is something really important, like something really important happened five weeks ago when we… _you know_ , and now we're ignoring it."

Ken didn't know what to say.

The tightness in his chest hadn't fully gone away in a few days now, and he was tired of feeling like he was suffocating, like he was _drowning_.

But that didn't mean kissing Daisuke was a good idea. That didn't mean Daisuke was right.

He really didn't want to think about the fact that Daisuke said he had a gut feeling. And Daisuke's gut feelings were usually right.

Daisuke inhaled carefully. "Can we just…try it?"

Ken frowned.

Daisuke's gut feelings were nearly always right despite nothing factual to back them up.

Slowly, Ken nodded.

For a moment, neither of them moved, but then Daisuke scooted closer, bridging the gap between them, and twisted to face him.

Ken allowed him to tilt his face, to lead him by the chin, and then their mouths were pressed together in a gentle kiss. He sighed into the kiss, enjoying the slow, sensual way Daisuke worked their lips together, and opened his mouth, inviting him inside.

When Daisuke's tongue slipped into his mouth, made contact with his own, the feeling was electric.

In his chest, the tension in his lungs eased. The strange irregular beat that had been plaguing him for the past month shifted, almost imperceptibly, till he could feel it thumping right along with Daisuke's, their hearts working as one.

He loved that feeling. Needed that feeling.

Ken wrapped his arms around Daisuke's neck and yanked him closer, smashing their chests together, throwing a leg over his lap. In return, Daisuke curled a hand into his hair, threading his fingers through it and clenching the soft strands, dragging a quiet moan from Ken's lips.

Just like Jogress, their bodies shifted and moved as one, completely in sync, and Ken had never felt so alive as he did with Daisuke's lips on his, with Daisuke's hands squeezing and caressing his body. Daisuke was hot, so hot he was burning, searing him, but that heat sent a thrill through his veins, and he pressed closer, trying to soak up as much of that heat as he could.

Daisuke broke apart, his eyes wild with the electricity, the power, the connection between them. "Fuck," he panted, running his thumb along Ken's jaw, "why haven't we been doing this for months? For years?"

Ken just shook his head and yanked him back into a kiss, falling backward on the mattress, Daisuke on top of him. He wrapped his legs around Daisuke's hips, latched his ankles together so he couldn't get away, and threw himself headlong into the kiss.

The strange thing was, it felt like they _had_ been doing this for months, for years, forever.

But Ken had more important things to do than figure that out.

He tore off Daisuke's shirt—a pajama top he'd borrowed since he hadn't bothered to bring anything with him—and trailed open-mouthed kisses over his chest, mouthing at the place where his heart lay underneath, and Daisuke clutched the wall for support, groaning, as his hips started a slow roll of their own volition.

Daisuke gasped when Ken nudged and pushed the waistband of the pajama pants down his hips, slowly revealing more and more glorious skin, touching parts of Daisuke he hadn't realized he'd desperately wanted to touch for as long as he could remember.

When the bottoms were pushed down to his knees, Ken reached between them and wrapped his hand around his half-hard cock, but he fixed that with a few strokes.

Moaning, Daisuke surged forward to yank open the buttons of Ken's top and suck at his neck, his collarbone, every bit of skin he could reveal. When he managed to tear the pajama top all the way open, he nudged it aside and latched onto his nipple, sucking and scraping his teeth on it roughly as Ken pushed forward into him, begging for more, his fingers still working on him below.

Ken keened at the attentions, struggling to focus on his rhythm, but Daisuke didn't seem to mind.

Instead, he pulled back into a sitting position, dragging Ken with him. Still sucking on a nipple, Daisuke lifted Ken by the thighs so he could slowly tug down his pajama pants and underwear and Ken shed the top that was still clinging to his arms. He pressed kisses down his chest, over his ribs, to where his hip bone jutted out more than it strictly should, and then he laid Ken down again, pulling the pants all the way off, leaving him naked and panting and utterly beautiful beneath him.

They kissed, eagerly, desperately, messily, as their hands stroked and rubbed and held each other tight, drawing out the arousal, leading them over the edge—first Ken, spilling over his own stomach, then Daisuke. Their come pooled together on his abdomen, and still breathless, Daisuke twirled his finger through the sticky spend before Ken grabbed the nearest article of clothing to clean it up.

Afterward, they lay on the bed together, naked and bare under the sheets, arms and legs entangled as they began to drift.

Daisuke pressed a kiss to his temple. "That was…"

Ken released a soft chuckle, his body completely relaxed. "I know." He hadn't been able to breathe this well in over a month, and it felt so nice to be able to take a deep breath and have his lungs fill with air, to drink in that oxygen without worry or fear. The tightness was gone.

He tugged Daisuke closer, dragged him into a languorous kiss, and when they broke apart, he murmured, "I can't believe it's really this simple."

Daisuke tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear with a grin. "How could it not be?" He laid his hand on Ken's chest, smile softening. "This is you and me."

And well, Ken couldn't really argue with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Daisuke is my adorable dumb baby in this, and I love him.


End file.
